


So, Maybe I'm A Little Gay

by LavenderWater



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Accidental Coming Out, Banter, Boy Squad, Drunk Isak, Fluff, M/M, Slightly Implied Internalized Homophobia, Sort Of, You'll see what I mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 20:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14755868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavenderWater/pseuds/LavenderWater
Summary: Come drink with us they said. It'll be fun they said. And it was, at least until Isak drunkenly blurted out his love for Even in front of everyone. Fuck his life.





	So, Maybe I'm A Little Gay

To say the party sucked ass would be a gross understatement. In fact, even calling it a party is a bit of a stretch. The beer was warm, the people obnoxious, and the music even shittier. Whoever had decided to let a second year blast a Justin Bieber spotify playlist through the speakers was clearly a disgrace on the earth. Twenty minutes after walking through the front door, they were walking right back out, grabbing a case of beer for their trouble on the way. 

So now they're drinking and talking amongst themselves in Isak's apartment, lounging around with the balcony doors open, letting in the first warm breeze of the season.

Mahdi's sitting in one of the chairs at the corner table with his legs propped up on the other, idly strumming the strings on the guitar in his lap. Jonas took up residence on the bed in the spot Isak had previously been occupying until he tried to roll over while laughing and accidentally slipped off the edge. 

Rather than moving he had decided to stay in the awkward, half spread eagle position he had landed in. His ass was propped up against the edge of the bed, one leg hooked over the top of the mattress by his knee, the other stretched out and extended along the floor. He doesn't want to brag, but he's pretty sure if he's this flexible in skinny jeans that he would be great in bed. Specifically the sexy stuff because clearly the whole physical act of being in bed didn't really pan out for him. When the hardwood of the floor had started giving him pain in the neck, he wormed his top half over to Magnus- who's sitting with his back resting against the bed and legs stretched out in front of him- and put his head in his lap.

Three beers later and Magnus had started running his fingers through Isak's curls. Two shots later and Isak had stopped trying to swat his hand away, instead soaking up the affection his friend was offering him through the simple act.

“Ok, but after that atrocity I think we should seriously reconsider just doing our own Russ bus. Or, like, we could join in with the girls. Vilde’s mentioned it a few times, so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

Isak snorts. “Vilde’s more than mentioned it a few times. And I think the word you were looking for there was nagged or irritated. Seriously, I don’t know how many more times I can listen to a speech about the danger my social status is in without losing my mind.” 

“Eva’s been bugging me about it too,” Jonas sighs. “I don’t know, maybe we should consider it. I mean it’s probably better than this.” 

“What’s wrong with this?” Isak asks sounding offended, and maybe he is a little bit. He thought they were having a perfectly nice evening, thank you very much.

“Nothing, per se. It’d just be nice to drink somewhere that doesn’t smell so much like your feet,” Jonas says, running the tab from his beer can up the sole of Isak’s foot for emphasis. 

Instinctively, his foot jerks, trying to get away from the tickling sensation. He almost knocks Jonas in the nose but the fucker must have Spidey-senses because he moves out of the way a millisecond before impact. 

“You come into my house, drink my beer-”

“It’s not your beer,” Jonas tries to interrupt.

“You drink my beer,” Isak continues, raising his voice to be heard over Jonas and intensifying his glare, “and this is how you repay me? If you hate the smell of my feet so much, then maybe don’t lay on top of them next time.” 

“I’m not laying on your feet.”

“Really, cause it sure looks like you are.”

“Anyways,” Mahdi intercedes, stopping Jonas from making a retort. As it is, he sticks his tongue out at Isak before resuming his previous position like the last five minutes of bickering had never happened. “I could talk to my uncle about his old van. He’s planning on selling it, though he has like three toddlers and I’m pretty sure his cat gave birth in the backseat, so I’m pretty sure this van has seen some shit.” 

Jonas shrugs, “Worth a try if we can get it cheap.”

“Yeah, because I’m sure that’ll smell better than feet,” Isak mumbles petulantly, causing Jonas to roll his eyes and flick the side of his foot. 

"Fy faen," Magnus gasps, bringing his hands to his temples like he was just struck with a brilliant idea and needed to hold it in before it escaped his mind, "I just realized Noora could totally hook us up with the Penetrators old russebukses. We'd have to change the names on them, of course, but we could totally get them on the cheap."

"Um, no," Isak cuts in, "there's no way I'm putting anything on my body that has previously been on William Magnusson. Sorry, dude, it's just not gonna happen."

"I'm with Isak on this," Jonas says, flopping onto his back to stare at the fan slowly turning on the ceiling, "I don't want anything that belonged to the guy my girlfriend used to fuck." 

"Besides, red isn't really my color," Mahdi adds, beginning to pluck the guitar strings in a rhythm that sounds suspiciously like the Hannah Montana theme song. 

Isak doesn't know what's more disturbing about that, the fact that Mahdi can play it by memory or the fact that he can apparently recognize it by hearing just a few chords out of context. He'd really like to believe it's the first option. Afterall, it's not his fault he had to sit through hours of the old television series while Even dutifully took notes for a developmental psychology class. He should really work on saying no to the other boy, it's just that he's so nice, and pretty, and hot. It also doesn't help that Isak's like ridiculously in love with him. 

"Bull shit!" Isak exclaims before anyone else can get a word in. Magnus looks like he's about to pout from being both rejected and ignored. "You wear red all the time, and you know it looks good on you."

Mahdi just shrugs- half appeasing, half accepting- and switches the song to a sloppy rendition of Carry on Wayward Son, which absolutely does not make him want to cry thinking about Supernatural. 

Just then the front door opens and clicks shut again, grabbing Isak's attention, his head snapping to look in the direction of the front hall because he's pretty sure this is almost the full extent of all the people he knows and hangs out with. So, who just walked into his apartment? There is the old lady who lives in a flat with the same number as his but a floor down; sometimes she rides the elevator up too far without noticing. There's also the little girl from three doors down who often waltzes in when the door's unlocked and her babysitter isn't paying attention. Her mom sent her over once with some laundry that had been left in the dryer and ever since she finds her way down the hall for the occasional visit. 

Neither of these options, though, explain why Mahdi greets the person with a casual nod before going back to what he was doing. Either Mahdi has finally reached the supreme level of chill where he no longer cares about complete strangers breaking in or it’s somebody he knows.

The last option is proven to be correct a moment later when Even comes around the corner, socks making him slide a little on the floor. "Halla, boys," he chirps happily, glancing at them all in turn as he shrugs out of his light jacket. "I didn't expect you to be here. Thought you guys were planning to go out, or haven't you left yet?" 

"Nah, man. The party sucked ass, so now we're chilling here. You want one?" Jonas asks, pulling a can of beer from the plastic ring and holding it out in Even's general direction. When Even nods, Jonas tosses him the can.

Even grabs the can seconds before it smacks into the ground, one long leg slid out behind him, the other bent at the knee, his torso on full display. Seriously, his shirt hitches up slightly during his stretch to grab the beer and Isak's eyes instantly land on the exposed skin. Overall, it probably shouldn't be as sexy as it is, but Isak finds his mouth watering and his fingers itching to reach out and touch.

Even's saying something about finishing his shift early, but it's just kind of floating right outside of Isak's focus, going over his head as he watches the older boy walk across the room to the propped-open balcony doors. The sky has a blushed kind of pink tint to it, and the dimming rays from the sun give Even a halo as they fight against the inevitable fade into night. He looks ethereal and beautiful, like a god damn angel, and well aren't people always saying the world needs more Jesus. 

Even's just about to sit down on the floor when he notices the look on Isak's face and freezes, eyebrows shooting up and concern clouding his usually crystalline blue eyes. "Is it,-" he pauses, nose scrunching adorably as he watches Isak worriedly, trying to decipher the look on his face, "Is it not chill that I'm here because I can leave. I don't want to crash boys' night or anything." 

The boys instantly start protesting, shouting that of course Even's welcome to hang out with them and it's impossible for him to crash boys' night when he is one of the boys, but Even's ignoring them, clearly waiting on an answer from the one boy who's been silent since Even entered the room. 

"Of course, I want you here," Isak splutters, determined to put Even at ease and make it blatantly clear that he wants him- god does he want him. "I mean I always want you here. I love you." 

Even sends him a beaming smile, finally taking a seat and cracking his beer open while the boys let out a chorus of "awws." For some reason Magnus' sounds more genuine and excited than the teasing coos of Mahdi and Jonas, but Isak can't think about that right now. He's too busy converting all of his blood into ice as his entire body goes rigid and breaks out in a cold sweat. 

Did he really just do that? How could he have done that? How could he have just blurted out his feelings for Even like that, and in front of everyone. He feels like he's going to throw up, and surprisingly it isn't from the mixture of beer and tequila and whatever else had been in that weird concoction being passed out in red cups at the party. No, the churning in his stomach was the result of nothing but fear and stupidity. 

Desperate to do something, anything, to salvage the situation and his dignity, Isak shoots upright, ripping Magnus' fingers out of his hair with enough force to make him wince. "Not like that, obviously," he says quickly, attempting to laugh but it just sounds shaky and tense- like his voice, "Like, I do love you, Even, but no homo. I'm not gay," he finishes weakly, placing his hand on his chest in a show of sincerity. 

And, fuck. That clearly wasn’t the right thing to say either as everyone is now starting at him in varying degrees of shock. Magnus' mouth is gaped open, watching Isak like he's afraid he's going to suddenly sprout a second head or something. Mahdi and Jonas for their part seem confused, and maybe a little sad, though Isak can't imagine why. And Even... Even looks completely taken aback, frozen with his hand halfway to his lips to take a swig of his drink. His eyebrows are practically in his hairline, eyes the widest Isak's ever seen them, and he honestly has no idea what to do to fix this. The boys are one thing but he thinks he may have actually broken Even. Isak's not a mechanic, he can't even fix the fridge when it's on the fritz let alone fix a fucking person. And Even's the most important person to Isak. He can't just leave him short-circuiting on the floor.

"Ev?" 

It's barley a whisper, but it's enough to pull Even from his trance, hand jerking and spilling some beer on his white shirt, leaving a stain. 

"Shit," Even gasps, straightening up and placing the can on the floor beside him. He glances down at his shirt, brushing his fingers over the wet patch in a lamenting gesture before snapping his eyes back up to lock with Isak's. "Babe," he starts, moving into a kneeling position, and Isak's heart nearly hammers out of his chest at the name. Did Even slip up too, say something he always meant to but never had the courage to, like Isak? "Isak, baby, we've been dating for a year and a half. We've been living here together for a year now too."

It's Isak’s turn to be confused now because “What?” 

He’s drunk sure, but is he really so drunk as to forget that Even is his boyfriend? That seems highly unlikely. If he, by some miracle, had landed Even, then he would surely remember a thing like that. Right? There’s no way Even’s telling him the truth, it has to be a joke.

Except… except Even’s not like that. In addition to being literal sex on legs, a drink of smoking hot water in the middle of the desert- which probably isn’t the best analogy now that Isak thinks about it because if you’re dehydrated in the fucking desert the last thing you’re gonna want is warm water, but whatever that’s beyond the point right now- he’s also super fucking nice and charming and charismatic. Even’s the type of guy who would climb a tree to rescue a kitten, not lie to a pining drunk guy about being his boyfriend. 

“Look around you,” Jonas laughs, partially because it’s a little funny watching Isak realize he’s dating his own boyfriend and partially to help lighten the mood because Isak looks like he could really use some help putting the puzzle pieces together, “There are literally hundreds of pictures of the two of you hanging on the walls. Not to mention, Mahdi’s playing Even’s guitar and you’re wearing his shirt.”

“Is that my shirt?” Even asks, curiosity tinting his voice as he tilts his head, trying to get a better look at the design on the front of the gray t-shirt.

“Yeah,” Jonas says incredulously, “Do you seriously not recognize your own shirts?”

“Of course, I recognize my own shirts. It’s just that we have more of a combined closet than my clothes and his clothes.”

“Oh my God, that is so fucking cute,” Magnus gushes, a huge, awestruck smile on his face, “I wish Vilde and I had a shared closet.” 

“No, you don’t,” Jonas deadpans, effectively crushing Magnus’ dreams of sharing outfits with his girlfriend. “Trust me, I swapped shoes with Eva on the way to the tram after that play a few months ago because her feet were killing her, and they killed me too. Heels are not comfortable, and they definitely aren’t stable to walk in. I almost busted my ass like five different times on the way to the tram alone, not to mention the walk back to her place from there. The things society puts girls through by pressuring them with images and standards that are unrealistic.” He trails off, shaking his head in disapproval and disappointment. 

Shaking his head to clear it from Jonas’ mini-speech, Isak feels a warm glow start to spread in his chest, and it only grows when he looks around the room and is met only with encouraging and sincere looks. They’re not dicking around with him. This is real. His relationship with Even- even if he did somehow manage to forget it- is real.

Isak crawls over the small space between them to where Even’s sitting, arranging his knees so they’re pressed flush against Even’s before sitting on his feet in an imitation of his boyfriend. 

That thought has a smile threatening to take over his face. He digs his teeth into his bottom lip to fight against it, but there’s not much he can really do when Even’s smiling back at him like he’s the fucking sun or something. 

Even’s watching him with a deep intensity, eyes scanning his face, flicking from his eyes to his lips to his nose, the little mole beside his mouth. It’s everywhere and Isak feels it like a physical brand touching his skin, marking him, and he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch the gorgeous boy sitting in front of him, but he’s still feeling apprehensive about how his touch will be received despite how open Even seems to be to it. A moment later, the decision is made for him as Even hooks his fingers in the belt loops of Isak’s skinny jeans and pulls him forward, hauling him into his lap with a squeal so he’s straddling the other boy. 

The sudden and unexpected motion makes the room start spinning in a highly unpleasant and slightly nauseating kind of way, but as Isak wraps his arms around Even’s neck, he finds an anchor in the form of dazzling blue eyes. It’s like watching the ocean calm after a storm, when the swirling of the waves finally slows and ebbs into a gentle pulsing ripple. That’s what gazing into Even’s eyes feels like, a gentle caress of water lapping at your fingertips while the rest of the ocean froths and seethes around you.

“So,” Isak says, voice barely above a whisper, twisting his fingers in the hair at the nape of Even’s neck nervously, “you’re my boyfriend.” He’s kinda proud of the way it doesn’t sound as much like a question as he figured it would, more like an unsure statement waiting for clarification. 

“Yeah, baby,” Even nods, his nose brushing against Isak’s, “I’m your boyfriend.”

Isak hums, continuing to play with Even’s hair as Even moves to wrap his arms around Isak’s waist, the motion causing his shirt to ride up enough for Even to rub circles into the small of his back with his thumbs. It’s skin on skin. It’s intimate. Isak thinks he’s dying. 

“So, that means that you love me too?” Isak asks, breaking eye contact in favor of staring at Even’s lips. They’re chapped and there’s a little crack in the middle of his bottom lip that Isak would love to trace with his tongue. 

Fingers gently lift his chin, encouraging him to look up. “Of course, I love you too. I would love you even if there was no ‘too.’ My love for you is unconditional and nonreturnable, babe.” 

“Mine too,” Isak mouths, tipping his chin up to demand a kiss because this has been a whole ordeal and Even is in love with him, which should be unfathomable but somehow Isak feels like it makes sense. Also, he’s pretty sure that after a declaration like that there’s usually kisses. He just really wants kisses, okay, specifically Even’s kisses. 

Even snorts a laugh but seeing Isak raise his eyebrows and cock his head in a way that clearly says “what are you waiting for,” he throws his head back and breaks into loud and boisterous laughter, his eyes crinkling from how wide he’s smiling. It’s almost contagious, almost because Isak’s still waiting for his kiss dammit, a kiss that can’t happen if Even doesn’t stop laughing at him and close his god damn mouth, though Isak’s not above taking matters into his own hands and just kissing his teeth.

“You’re so fucking cute,” Even says with a nose scrunch, leaning forward to bump it lightly against Isak’s, making them squish together in a way that clearly pleases him. And then he’s kissing Isak, like really kissing Isak, and oh shit. 

Even’s lips are soft as they slide across Isak’s, his fingers rough from callouses as he glides them over Isak’s skin, hands traveling further inside the back of his shirt. The contrast in sensations makes Isak’s eyes roll back a little, causing him to close his eyes with a fluttering of his eyelashes as a quiet moan is ripped from his throat. 

Isak’s so glad he didn’t go for the teeth kiss because this is like magic. Hell, he thinks he may have just found his new religion in this boy’s mouth, a baptism in his tongue as it meets Isak’s in a caress as he’s tentatively licking over the little split he’d been fantasizing about not even five minutes ago. In the back of his mind there’s a memory, a faint trace of the taste of chlorine and adrenaline and so many butterflies you could build a conservatory in his chest. 

Desperate to feel more, Isak stretches out his torso, pressing against Even as tightly as he can, cupping his jaw in one hand and chasing after his lips. He feels it like a zap when Even groans against his lips, swallowing down the sound, eager for more. Maybe a little too eager because the next thing he knows they’re horizontal, Even laying on his back on the hardwood floor, Isak perched on top of his chest. Even’s looking up at him with blown pupils, his face playing through a range of emotions from amusement to lust, and Isak can’t help but giggle, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against Even’s cheek before placing a quick peck there. 

In the background, the boys are whistling, making cat calls at the show playing out in front of them. The commotion slowly starts to resonant in Isak’s consciousness. Truth be told, as soon as Even had pulled him into his lap the rest of the world had ceased to exist for him. 

Blushing furiously, he sits up and turns to face them. For the most part, they look amused if not even a little endeared. Magnus on the other hand might as well be sporting heart eyes as he watches them. Seriously, he looks like he just witnessed every romance movie pairing kiss at the royal wedding. He’s practically giddy and Isak’s drunk brain is having a hard time processing it. And here he thought he was excited to find out he was dating Even. 

“If we’re done with that now,” Jonas says, hopping off the bed and walking the short distance to the tv, turning it on and grabbing the remote along with two controllers, “can we maybe do something productive?” 

“Hey,” Isak protests from his place between Even’s legs, leaning back against his chest, “We’re productive. For example, I got a hot boyfriend. What did you do today?”

It starts with a snort, but soon Even’s full-on laughing, burying his face in Isak’s shoulder to muffle the sound as his whole body shakes, jostling Isak with the force of it. He reaches back and pats his boyfriend’s head, maintaining eye contact with Jonas as he waits with raised eyebrow for an answer. 

Jonas stares at him for a few minutes in exasperation before shaking his head fondly. “Nothing yet,” he says, tossing the second controller to an unsuspecting Magnus who scrambles to catch the thing, “but I’m about kick Magnus’ ass at FIFA.” 

“I get winner!” Isak claims dibs enthusiastically, snuggling further back into Even’s embrace, getting comfortable for the wait while the two boys duke it out. 

“I get Isak after he beats Jonas,” Mahdi adds. 

“Why is everyone assuming I’m going to lose?” Magnus asks.

“Because you are,” the three boys answer offhandedly, distracted by the tasks they’re focused on, Jonas setting the game up, Mahdi fiddling with the guitar, and Isak playing with Even’s fingers. Who knew fingers could be so long and intriguing?

“Aww, Mags, I believe in you. You can totally win against Jonas,” Even says when Magnus lets out a huff, looking dangerously close to pouting. 

Eyes lighting up, Magnus leans forward, “Seriously, you think I could? What about the others, think I could take them too?”

Even sucks in a breath through his teeth, wincing a little, “See, that’s where you got me, dude. Isak’s my man, I have to root for him in this.” 

At that, Isak raises his eyebrows at Magnus, shooting him a smug look, all the while preening under the attention he’s getting from the gorgeous giraffe behind him. 

“Fair enough,” Magnus says, but he sounds a little skeptical as he watches Isak, almost like he wants to agree with Even but can’t fully because of the cockiness radiating off of his said ‘man.’ 

Isak will take it, though, and if you ask him, this is the perfect way to spend a night. Not out getting blisteringly drunk with strangers in a van that smells like toddler vomit and cat afterbirth but in the apartment he shares with his boyfriend, wrapped up in the other boy and the sounds of his friends’ laughter and curses as they miss shots and make goals. 

He closes his eyes and hums softly when Even presses a gentle kiss against his cheek and temple, murmuring an “I love you” against his skin so Isak can feel the heat of his breath and the vibrations from his lips. Squeezing the arms wrapped around him, Isak turns slightly, placing his lips lightly against Even’s and whispering back, “I love you, too.” 

He doesn’t know how he could have forgotten being Even’s boyfriend, but that’s something for sober Isak to worry about. Either way, drunk or sober, he knows, as Magnus lets out a loud cheer, that he would never give this up. Any of it.


End file.
